


The Crystal Garden

by JayRain



Series: New Magic and Old Gods [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emprise du Lion (Dragon Age), M/M, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Red Lyrium
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-04-07 11:59:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19084582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayRain/pseuds/JayRain
Summary: With Corypheus defeated and some well-earned relaxation ahead of them, it only makes sense that Inquisitor Theo Trevelyan and his love, Dorian Pavus, find themselves trekking to the frozen reaches of Emprise du Lion. Corypheus may be gone and his generals defeated, but the remnants of his red templars are finding their way from even the remotest corners of Thedas, called by the song in their veins that promises more: more power, more peace, more to harvest to satisfy their hunger. Theo and Dorian arrive ready to mop up the remnants, only to find themselves facing their most cunning enemy yet: Choice.





	1. Return to Me

 

_ Chapter 1: Return to Me _

 

The horns sounded across the courtyard, but that only meant that the Inquisitor was in sight: not that he’d returned to Skyhold. It would be another half hour, at least, if Dorian’s calculations were correct. He resisted the urge to dash down the stairs and through the halls and out into the yard; he would only be hurrying to wait.

He lounged in the middle of the bed, comfortable, if a bit large for one person (though he’d never admit that). He was certain that the chamber staff were out in the halls wringing their hands and biting their tongues at his lassitude, what with Inquisitor Trevelyan so close.

Dorian sat up stiffly and groaned at the dull aches in his abdomen. The injuries he’d received during the final battle against Corypheus were healing well, but he often felt twinges of pain, and he tired more easily than he’d care to admit to anyone--especially Theo himself. Oh, he’d put up an appropriate fit of pique at being left behind on this latest mission, but, aside from the bed being too large and lonely at night, he was relieved Theo had gone off without him.

Before dawdling over his choice of outfit in which to welcome home the Inquisitor, Dorian paused in front of the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Below, the soldiers lined up in formation. A pair of ravens flew out from the next tower over, while another returned from the field. He watched for a bit; he’d never been on this side of the return before, and it fascinated him to see Skyhold wake from its languor in the Inquisitor’s absence.

His heart swelled with pride as he watched, and it beat a little bit faster when he thought of seeing Theo again after just over a fortnight apart. His sparkling green eyes, his lithe, lean frame, the way his chestnut hair would fall in his face and he would impatiently push it away… the feel of his lips…

Dorian couldn’t hold back his smile, and there was little point in trying. He was alone, for one, and even if he wasn’t, all of Skyhold--all of Thedas, really--knew he and Theo were madly in love. Dorian himself still had trouble believing this was his reality. No one from Tevinter would bother asking, let alone caring, if he’d thought this would be his life one day: waking up in the arms of the most powerful man in the world. 

Truthfully, he hadn’t ever thought he’d consistently wake up in the arms of the same man. It hadn’t been tolerated at home as anything more than a pleasant, if discreet diversion.

He selected sleek, fitted suede trousers in black; and because his torso still pained him, a loose crimson silk shirt with black lacing. He ran his hands through his dark hair; normally he’d like to style it, but he supposed that by the time he’d fixed it, he and Theo would mess it up again. Dorian twirled the ends of his mustache and took a quick glance in the mirror before donning his comfortable light boots and a warm cloak and descending to the courtyard.

“Hello, Dorian,” Leliana greeted him when he emerged from Skyhold’s main doors. As was customary when she was outside, she wore her hood up. He never could tell if she was shielding her fair complexion from the sun; or merely trying to retain her aura of mystery as the Inquisition’s spymaster. They stood at the top of the stairs in the crisp mountain air and leaned against the stone wall to watch the entourage in the courtyard. “You look well,” Leliana observed without actually looking at him.

“As do you, Madame Spymaster,” Dorian said. Below, the hulking grey Iron Bull and his lieutenant, Krem, were speaking with Commander Cullen. From this distance Dorian was unable to read the big Qunari’s expression. Then, at the end of the line, came the Inquisitor himself astride his big bay. 

Theodane Trevelyan did not cut the impressive figure that someone like Cullen, or another muscled warrior might; and early in his career, when he’d fumbled to find his leadership style, some had even mistaken Cullen for the Inquisitor. Theo’s prowess lay in archery and stealth, and he moved with flexibility and fluidity. He dismounted and handed his bow and quiver to a waiting footman, and finally turned his face toward the entry to Skyhold.

Dorian did not wave, though he did smile more widely than he had in some time, and the ache in his chest surprised him. Certainly he’d missed his  _ amatus _ while he’d been mopping up in the Hinterlands and Fallow Mire; but now Theo was so very close, and protocol and etiquette demanded that neither run giggling toward the other.

Below, Theo’s face also cracked into a huge grin. And then he broke into an easy jog that picked up speed as he neared the stone stairwell, heedless of the voices calling for the Inquisitor’s attentions.

Theo had never been one for protocol or etiquette anyway.

“Dorian!” he called, taking the steps two at a time. He stopped just sort of slamming into Dorian, instead gathering him up into his arms and pressing a long and breathless kiss against his lips. Dorian wrapped his arms around Theo’s shoulders, fingers curling into the leather of his coat to pull him closer, before stroking Theo’s brown hair. “Maker, I missed you,” he gasped when he finally pulled away.

“I can hardly blame you,” Dorian told him, one hand lingering on his rosy cheek. He met Theo’s eyes, green like new forest leaves in the spring. “I suppose I missed you as well,” he said with an affected shrug as he turned to go back inside. He conjured a small warming spell--he’d spent so much time inside before the fire recently, that he’d forgotten how bloody cold it was, living in the mountains.

Theo caught his hand and squeezed, a simple gesture, but one that always caught Dorian off guard and made his chest swell with pride and contentment and gratitude. He’d missed more than nightly frolicks in that big bed; he’d missed his love, his companion, his  _ amatus _ . 

Leliana followed a couple paces behind; Dorian didn’t have to see her face to know she was smiling. Though the Inquisitor was a grown man and highly capable, his advisors looked out for his well being better than any parent. He didn’t doubt that many people were less afraid of Theo himself, and more afraid of Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine. And Cassandra, he couldn’t forget; it wasn’t just anyone who could call the newly appointed Divine a personal friend.

“Do you need some time to refresh, Inquisitor?” Josephine asked, meeting them as they entered the grand hallway proper. 

Theo’s hand stiffened in Dorian’s, but he flashed Josephine a bright smile. “I have the feeling that ‘yes’ is the wrong answer,” he teased, though Dorian sensed the bite in his words. 

“If you need to debrief your clamoring admirers, I can continue to languish on without you for another few hours,” Dorian told him. It wasn’t his first choice; since they’d first met they hadn’t been apart more than a day or two at most. The last two weeks had been bearable, but now Theo stood next to him, holding his hand, smelling of sweat and leather and the cold mountain air and faintly of horse: all comforting things Dorian had missed dearly. But he also understood Theo’s obligations to his position, and he had, after all, waited this long.

“Or you could join us,” Theo suggested, and steered everyone toward the War Room. Dorian didn’t miss the way his eyes crinkled slightly, or the tiny bounce in his step.

“I’ll have the evening meal delivered,” Josephine said in response, unflappable as ever. 

“Can I make it up to you later?” Theo murmured as they strode through the hallway that led to the War Room. “I really did miss you,” he added and leaned in to give Dorian a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I know you did,” Dorian said without bothering to disguise how pleased he was at Theo’s public displays.  _ Our lives are too short and complicated to be concerned with what the masses think of us, _ he’d told Dorian one night before a dwindling fire, while the icy winds howled outside.

They entered and took seats around the war table: a massive slab of lacquered wood atop the dead stump of what would have been an impossibly huge tree. The known world had been etched into it, and tiny flags and markers told the story of Theodane Trevelyan’s conquests. As always, Dorian’s gaze drifted north, where the Tevinter Imperium lay. Theo had promised they’d go there one day, as soon as they’d cleared up the mess left by Corypheus and his minions. Dorian never told him how he pined for it. 

Theo leaned back in his chair and rested his right ankle on his left knee, and steepled his long fingers under his chin as he surveyed his world. His marked left hand glowed a subdued acid green. He caught Dorian looking at it and dropped his hands, clutching at the arm of his chair with his left hand, and drumming the fingers of his right on his bent right knee. 

Leliana joined them, trailed by Cullen and Josephine. “I appreciate your immediate attention, Inquisitor,” Leliana began. “Josephine and I debated the necessity of this, and are glad you saw the value--”

“Have you been taking diplomacy lessons, Leliana?” Theo teased, and she actually reddened. “What happened to stab first, question later?” 

Josephine rolled her eyes, but couldn’t quite subdue her grin, and even Cullen cracked a smile. “Fair enough. I should have learned by now to be direct with you,” Leliana said. She settled down across the table and tossed a sheaf of papers into the center. “You met Charter out in Crestwood?”

Theo nodded. “Region seemed to be doing much better since my last time there,” he said, and gave Dorian a sidelong glance that made them both blush. They’d shared their first kisses on the road to Crestwood, and had made their first tentative overtures on that mission. He cleared his throat and fiddled with his bootlaces. “They seemed to be making a good recovery. Could have used you in the Fallow Mire, though,” he added to Dorian.

“Crestwood is recovering well,” Cullen said, “but Charter’s report was troubling.”

“We were just passing through,” Theo said. “I didn’t get much time to explore more.”

“Nor were you expected to,” Leliana said easily. “You’re just one man. One man who can accomplish quite a bit, but still just one man all the same. Charter shared that there was increased red lyrium growth in the eastern part of the region. She infiltrated a red templar camp and found this.” She gestured to the stack of papers.

Theo stared at the stack, face alarmingly expressionless. People always said the Inquisitor was incapable of lying, because his face always betrayed him. He’d even declined to participate in one of Varric’s games of Wicked Grace, because he knew he wouldn’t stand a chance with Josephine or Dorian at the table. Finally he leaned forward and slid the pile closer to him.

Silent servants scurried in with platters of food and jugs of wine while Theo skimmed through the reports. Josephine hardly dared touch her food, though Cullen dug in with the pragmatism of a career soldier. Leliana picked at bits and pieces, and Dorian just poured himself some wine. Theo shook his head without looking up when he offered wine or food.

The light shifted and Dorian conjured glowing wisps overhead. At long last Theo sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I thought the Chargers had cleaned up the red templars in the Emprise.”

“Their report was thorough, and I trust that the Iron Bull was accurate,” Leliana said. “These communications speak of an old Elvhen fortress serving as their base.”

“Without Corypheus they have no direction. No objective,” Josephine said at last.

“They don’t think the way rational templars do,” Cullen said. He leaned his head back against the pillar. “Lyrium calls to templars, and can drive them mad over time. Red lyrium… well, you saw what the Chargers brought back from their last mission.”

“They were barely human,” Dorian said. “Amatus?” he asked Theo. He had that faraway look in his green eyes, when he was seeing horrors that only he could truly understand. Dorian had taken lives, before and during the Inquisition, but he still didn’t fully comprehend the burden the Inquisitor bore.

Theo’s face relaxed and he stood, stretching. “Cullen, can you see to it that Samson is ready for an audience tomorrow?” he asked. Everyone stared at him. “Yes, Samson,” he said with a sigh. “I’d like a private audience with him. See to it that he’s treated well and is comfortable?” he asked. “And with that, I’m calling this council finished and having some much-deserved time with my love.” He smiled, though it didn’t quite light up his face; he pulled together a plate of food to take upstairs.

Dorian grabbed the wine. They were going to need it.

 


	2. Red Shadows

 

Dorian was waiting in the center of their bed, wearing his crimson silk shirt and his smallclothes, and Theo wanted nothing more than to ravish him (carefully) after two weeks alone. Leaning against the doorframe, Theo watched the red-orange flames cast Dorian’s chiseled profile first in light, then in shadow, until he hardly seemed of this world: a work of art, or something from beyond the Veil.

But then Dorian noticed him watching, and his smile spread--the smile that lifted his cheeks, crinkled the corners of his eyes. The smile that was nearly always followed by his half-sighed, “Amatus?”

Theo straightened up and tousled his damp hair with the towel one last time before padding over to the bed. “This is far better than anything I imagined while I was gone,” he said and lay back on the blankets, enjoying the soft, fine fabric against his bare skin after the days of practical, rough-woven wools, and sleeping in his heavy field clothes. He rested his head on his hand and smiled up at Dorian.

Dorian’s silvery-grey eyes swept down the length of Theo’s body, and he fought the urge to cover up--though blushing was harder to overcome, and his cheeks warmed under Dorian’s scrutiny. At last, Dorian reclined against a bolster and held his arm out, welcoming Theo to snuggle into him. Theo did so gingerly, and Dorian’s chuckle rumbled through his chest. “You’ll not break me, Amatus,” he said, curling his arm around Theo’s shoulder. His fingertips were warm, with that delicate insect-wing buzz of magic just beneath his own skin.

“I know. I’m glad you’re healing well,” Theo told him. He draped one leg over Dorian’s. “How did we ever manage what we did in those camp cots?” he asked as he surveyed the spacious bed.

“By doing this,” Dorian replied, as if it should have been obvious. “Though I will confess I did find this bed rather large for just one person.”

“It’s what I told you when I was trying to convince you to move in.” Theo slipped his hand under the hem of Dorian’s shirt and trailed his fingers over the scarring on his torso. “It doesn’t hurt much, does it?” He glanced up at Dorian through his eyelashes, at the firelight on his face and his subdued expression.

“Only when I move quickly,” Dorian assured him, and rested his hand atop Theo’s with the smooth silk between them. “But every day is better, and the retinue of fussy healers has shrunk to one visit a day. I’m assured it’s nothing short of miraculous,” he said and preened his moustache.

Theo chuckled. “Because you are miraculous.” He toyed with the hem of the shirt, watching how the red changed in the lights and shadows. He must have been frowning because Dorian’s hand squeezed his shoulder. He sighed. “You know what would truly be miraculous? Being finished this bloody business.”

“We’re going to Orlais, aren’t we.”

Theo nuzzled into Dorian’s shoulder. “I know  _ I  _ am. I’m sorry, you look so dashing in red, and all it reminds me of…”

“Amatus, you are out of your mind if you think I’m letting you go alone.” Theo looked up, and Dorian was smiling, the sweet smile of one dealing with a young child who was not going to get his way. “I’m healing well, my magic is at full strength, and I’m not spending another night alone for a very,  _ very _ long time,” he said. 

“I love you, Dorian,” Theo said as he stretched up to give Dorian a proper welcome home.

  
  


Dorian did not stir when Theo slipped out of bed the next morning, but he still took care as he dressed and left their tower bedroom. He would have loved to languish in bed, have breakfast brought, make love again, this time in the bright sunlight streaming through his windows. Somewhere, in all of the papers and contracts and agreements he’d signed along the way, he must have signed away his right to peace and quiet.

Skyhold was still busy at this hour--indeed, it never slept. Though it was built as if rising out of the mountains itself, it was a living creature. Theo sometimes wondered about those years when it slept, unknown and undetected in the Frostback Mountains; and what exactly about the Inquisition’s arrival woke it.

Josephine was, surprisingly, not at her desk when Theo entered her offices on his way to the War Room, but two Inquisition guards stood before the doors. They snapped to stiff attention when Theo approached, and one opened the door for him. Cullen waited inside, and with him, Samson.

Corypheus’s general had not fared well, even though Theo insisted that he be treated with decency. He sat in a chair, elbows propped on the war table. Most of the reddish glow had dissipated. Without his link to, or supply of red lyrium, he was shriveling. His skin was greyish in the morning light streaming through the high windows, his dark hair thinning. His eyes looked sunken, his cheeks sharp. But his smile was still sardonic, and his ragged laugh told Theo that he was still Samson. Whatever regular lyrium, and then the red, had wreaked on his body, amazingly, he’d maintained most of his mind.

“I wondered when you’d find out,” Samson greeted him.

“Morning, Cullen. Morning, Samson,” Theo said instead of rise to the bait. “Have you eaten? Should I have breakfast brought?”

“Sounds good to me,” Cullen said, while Samson just shook his head and muttered something about bullshit pleasantries. “Then you know why we’ve brought you here this morning?”

Samson licked his thin lips. “Well, your people were gloating about Corypheus’s defeat louder than the magisters did when they burned Andraste. You didn’t want to see me then, but now? You must have gotten wind of the Emprise operation.”

Theo shrugged and sat down, wishing he had his coffee before starting in, but satisfied that at least this wouldn’t take long. “We knew you were there, and we thought we’d stopped it. Obviously we haven’t, so I’d appreciate some insights as to how we can end it, this time for good.” 

He expected Samson to laugh and was prepared for it. But he was not prepared for Samson’s silence, or the way his rheumy eyes drifted toward Emprise du Lion on the map. “Some places are better for growing the stuff than others,” he began. He rose and one hand drifted toward Crestwood. “Here? The Blight was a bitch and a half. Thinned the Veil, left all sorts of shitty energy that red lyrium thrives on. Emprise has its own sordid history that’s made it prime growing ground.”

“Growing?” Cullen asked, shaking his head. “Lyrium is mined.”

“Blue lyrium is,” Samson said with a half sneer. “Gotta love when you think you have all the answers and then you don’t. Red lyrium feeds. The more it feeds, the more it grows. All sorts of shit in Emprise du Lion to feed on.”

“Who’s running the operation if you’re not?” Theo asked. He remained calm, casual; he’d learned that anger only entertained Samson.

But Samon just shrugged. “That’s what you’re going to find out, isn’t it,” he said. “If it’s not me, and if my master’s gone… there’s a very limited number of people who can be handling that sort of business, isn’t there.”

“Your red templar forces could be doing just fine for themselves,” Cullen said, but his confidence made Samson chuckle. 

“Please. They don’t think. They obey. It’s faster for them that way. Gets them their fix quicker, and isn’t that what it’s all about? The joy of the fix? The thrill of it in your veins, your eyes blowing wide and you see everything, feel everything--”

“Thank you, Samson. We’re done,” Theo announced, rising from his own chair and gesturing toward the guards peering in on them. He eyed Cullen, who looked irritated, but no worse for wear, and said as much when Samson was gone.

“That’s why I gave up on lyrium. I couldn’t have it controlling me,” Cullen said after a moment of silence. “Pity, breakfast never came.”

“We’ll just have to eat over a full council,” Theo said grimly.

An hour later everyone had filed in, and Theo greeted a still-groggy Dorian with a light kiss on his cheek. He and Cullen filled everyone on in with what Samson had revealed. 

“So if it’s not Samson, and he’s implied that his regular issue red templars couldn’t oversee another growing operation like what was disrupted in Crestwood, and what they started to break down the last time our people were in the Emprise,” Cullen began.

“Then who is it?” Theo asked everyone. 

“Dunno, but we’re going to find out, aren’t we,” the Iron Bull guessed.

“You know him so well,” Dorian teased. “I told you so,” Dorian said after they’d all broken to start in on preparations for the trip southwest. He walked slowly toward the stairs to their room, so slowly that Theo’s heart skipped once and he put an arm around Dorian’s waist to support him. 

Theo sighed. “It always feels like there’s some sort of shadow hanging over us. I wish it would go away so we could enjoy just being together. I think we’ve earned our time.”

“Come now, love. Adventure is what brings us closer together,” Dorian said with a grin. 

“And what has the potential to tear us apart,” Theo added. Last night the thought of a trip to the Emprise had been theoretical, especially when viewed in the context of his reality with Dorian. Now it was real, and beyond that, Samson’s complete unhelpfulness only made him more nervous. They could be going up against an overly ambitious red templar, or something else. Something worse. “I really wish you’d reconsider coming with me,” he said as they began the climb to their quarters.

“And let you discover this new nemesis without me? Perish the thought,” Dorian said and squeezed his hand. 

Theo chuckled and reached over to ruffle Dorian’s dark hair. “Fine. But it’s going to be cold, and I’m just telling you right now, I told you so.”

“Fair enough.”


	3. Departures and Detours

It was only going to get colder. Dorian reminded himself of that as they rode in single file along the narrow path down the western slopes of the Frostbacks, headed into Orlais and south toward the Emprise du Lion region. It did no good to complain or waste his mana right now, when the sun was shining and the wind was only whistling, rather than outright howling. He kept his eyes fixed on the spot between Theo’s shoulderblades where he knew the tension gathered; he could see the control even beneath the layers of material he wore, as he held the reins and kept his horse moving surely down the track.

Dorian’s own horse wasn’t enjoying the ride much more; the animal could sense his discomfort with the cold and his uncertainty regarding this journey. Dorian was highly skilled in many areas, but nature magic was never one that came innately. He’d been raised in cities and Circles, and had never  _ had _ to worry about that sort of thing. He’d learned horsemanship and rode quite well, but his magic never quite seemed enough to calm his mounts in these sorts of situations.

Riding single file didn’t give much opportunity for discussion, so Dorian contented himself with, if not the chilly fresh air, at least the opportunity to be out and about again. He loved to complain about their rustic accommodations when out on the road, but truly, rustic accommodations were better than luxury ones so long as he was with Theo.

The slope eased gradually, and the path began to widen. The tension left Theo’s shoulders and he sat more relaxed. He fell back to allow Dorian to ride alongside him. The bright sun and cold had turned his cheeks red, and he had wound a woollen scarf round the lower half of his face. His green eyes peeked out above the scarf and through windswept tendrils of his dark hair, though when he looked over at Dorian, his eyes lifted at the corners as he smiled. Dorian offered an affected pout and pulled his cloak tighter around his wool-lined coat with the fur collar. 

They both disliked the cold, but Theo at least tolerated it. 

They made their first stop a half hour later in a roadside pull-off against the mountain, and sheltered from the winds. The sun on the stone warmed the alcove; Theo pulled off his scarf, and Dorian pushed the fur-lined hood off his head. “Your hair’s a wreck,” Theo said, grinning. He stretched and flexed his left hand. The faintest of grimaces fluttered over his features and disappeared almost before Dorian noted it.

“The things I do for love,” Dorian replied, rather than harp on how the mark might be affecting Theo.

Theo’s smile was soft, and his gaze lingered on Dorian. “I know. And I appreciate it very much. How are you holding up?”

“Well enough, though I managed to forget that riding, particularly through harsh terrain, isn’t just sitting and letting the beast do the work,” he said. 

“If you can hold up until we reach the base camp, there will be a carriage available,” Theo said. Concern etched itself across his face, and while Dorian could easily reassure him he’d be fine--and he definitely would be--he was deeply touched. It had taken some getting used to; back in Tevinter, the only concern his family ever showed toward him was when his behavior, or Maker forbid, the very core of his being risked damaging the family name. He reached over and took Dorian’s hand. “I’ll even ride with you.”

“And avoid having your worshipers prostrate themselves at your feet as we pass by?” Dorian asked with a grin, which spread when Theo’s blush deepened. He squeezed his hand. “I appreciate it, and do think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

They rested a while longer; scouts brought reports from further down the road where Inquisition soldiers had engaged a group of bandits, but other than that, things remained clear. The trip down to the base camp, however, felt long and painful after the rest, and he was reminded of how unused to travel he’d become.

“Remind me again how we used to ride all over the bloody south?” he asked Theo once they’d settled in at the base camp that night. He stretched his arms and arched his back, and nothing got the stiffness out.

“I could massage that out for you,” Theo offered, pulling him close and resting his hands on Dorian’s backside. His fingers curled inward in an affectionate squeeze.

“Just two nights ago you were wondering how we managed in camp,” Dorian teased as he relaxed into Theo’s hold. “Seems we’re able to transition seamlessly.” Though for all his teasing, and as much as he enjoyed being with Theo, when they were on the road, there were fewer boundaries between Theo the man and Theo the Inquisitor. It was harder this time to ignore the passing officers, or the cleared throats when someone wanted or needed something. Dorian had handled that well enough during the campaign against Corypheus, because their goals ranked above his personal interests, much as it pained him to admit. But now the interruptions, combined with his stiffness, just irritated him.

Theo had had no such breaks between defeating Corypheus and getting back on the road, and managed better. Though in the morning grey-purple shadowed under his eyes, and he was slower to smile. He handed his unsaddled horse off to a traveling groom and climbed stiffly into the carriage with Dorian and they continued to descend. The trip down the mountain was not as steep, and the road was wider and easier to navigate. For the first leg of the journey Dorian regaled Theo with stories of his naughtier escapades as a child in Tevinter.

He delighted in the way Theo’s tired eyes lit up, and how he leaned forward, hanging on his words. “You are a natural storyteller, love,” Theo told him with a soft smile. “If you were to end up in Minrathous, they’d have no choice but to listen.” 

“You’re too kind,” Dorian told him with an affected bashfulness. “But let’s not speak of these things, not while they’re unlikely to become reality.” He leaned back in the corner of his wide bench (only the best for the Inquisitor) and took out a book while Theo read through Scout Harding’s reports about the Emprise du Leon. His brow furrowed ever more deeply until he at last sighed and shuffled everything away. He leaned his head against the back of his bench, eyes closed.

Dorian let him stew for a bit until the sounds of the rocking carriage over the roads grew too much to bear. “You know--” he began, and then they stopped. “Well, that is most inconvenient,” he said, pursing his lips.

“There’s something up ahead,” Theo said. He turned over his left hand and uncurled his fingers. Green light exploded from his palm, so bright Dorian squinted. 

Theo was climbing out of the carriage before the harried scout could even knock on their door, and quickly armored up. His squire was trying to help; the poor man’s cheeks were red and his hands were shaking, though from fear of what was ahead, or the Inquisitor’s pique, it was hard to say. “Bow,” Theo snapped, and another attendant raced up with Theo’s bow and quiver. Theo pulled a leather glove onto his right hand, and his left remained uncovered. The green light sparked delightedly from his palm, and he headed off without a backward glance.

Dorian watched his leave, sauntering up the mountain road and veering toward a footpath, and realized Theo hadn’t even told him he wasn’t saying goodbye. “Men,” Dorian muttered, and went about quickly spelling his own gear to reinforce it. He wouldn’t get into the fray of battle: just close enough to fire off something offensive, or to protect Theo. Surely he couldn’t get angry about that.

It wasn’t like he’d ordered Dorian to stay behind, after all.

It wasn’t like Dorian would have obeyed that order even if it had been given.

He struck off after the small party and caught up with the Iron Bull and the couple Chargers who’d joined. He paused to catch his breath, pretending not to be breathless, and failing. “If anything happens to you, the Boss will kill you,” the Bull said with a grin.

“What’s up there,” Dorian asked, rather than retort and prove the Bull right.

“Another Fade rift. Nothing we haven’t taken on before.”

“Which is why you’re hanging back,” Dorian noted, and Bull just stared ahead where Theo had gone, rather than retort and prove Dorian right.

The air crackled with the hum of the Fade, shining through where reality had been torn. Dorian always marveled at the wavering green light and the glimpses into the Fade that it showed. The rents in reality were beautiful, even if they were deadly. And right before it, stood Theo.

He bent his head and stared at his sparking palm. In that moment he looked hopeless and alone, burdened and ready to collapse under the weight of the neverending storms only he could calm. His shoulders sagged and Dorian’s heart caught in his chest--but to cry out, to distract Theo right now--that could be death for the both of them. Instead he held his breath and willed strength toward his Amatus. “Move, you fool,” he whispered, barely audible over the constant thrum of Fade energy.

A moment later Theo heaved a sigh and raised his left hand to the rift. It twisted mid-air and the low thrum became a high-pitched shriek as the mark on his hand connected with the rift through a line of green energy.

Dorian had helped Theo close enough of these that he knew to step to the side to avoid the demons that cropped up through dark portals on the ground near his feet, and he focused lightning on the gangly beast that climbed up. His magic flowed through him, surging out his hands and responding to his wishes. Lightning made the angular demon to his right shrivel; a well-timed walking bomb spell took out the demon across the field of battle.

Then the air grew colder: ice crystalized in the air around him, and though the sun was bright, he felt, rather than saw, a shadow. 

Theo’s line faltered, and his left arm sagged until it fell to his side and he stared up at the rift. The green light cast a sickly pall over him and he let out a sigh, closed his eyes, and sank to his knees.

Dorian threw caution to the icy wind and raced over to Theo. He knelt next to him and shook him by the shoulders _.  _ “Amatus. Theodane. What is it?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady; but Theo had always been a ball of reckless, boundless energy; to see him so wilted was terrifying.

And then he thought, what if Theo couldn’t pull out of this? What if the Inquisition had finally broken him? 

Another cold gust cut through him and he looked up, catching a glimpse of the floating, hooded figure pulling through the rift.

Dorian had learned long ago to banish distraction, though it was easier when those distractions were humans rather than demons of despair. “Theo, you’re very close,” he said, squeezing his arm. He took his hand and ran his thumb over Theo’s knuckles. “You just need to banish this foul thing and close the rift and we can be off,” he added.

Theo shrugged, but did not pull his hand away. “It doesn’t matter. There will be more. There will always be more,” he said, staring ahead with glassy eyes.

The despair demon descended toward them, and Dorian released a fireball at it. The demon shrieked, a metal on rusted metal squeal that cut through the air, and still Theo stared at the ground before him.

Another fireball pushed the demon further away, and Dorian took Theo’s left hand. “I know you, love. You want to close this rift,” he said with a fond smile, and caressed Theo’s windswept hair with his other hand.

“It won’t matter if I do or not,” Theo said, hand limp in Dorian’s.

It was Dorian’s turn to sigh. “Let’s assume it doesn’t matter,” he said. “Do you want to close it?”

“I guess.”

“That’s good enough,” Dorian said and held Theo’s open hand to the rift. He blasted the demon away again, and this fireball caught its shredded robes. Its pitiful shrieks were lost in the roar of the Fade as Theo made a weak connection. Dorian held his hand up and wrapped his other arm around Theo’s shoulders. “You’re doing it, love,” he said. “If you can just focus a bit…”

Theo looked up and realized what was happening, and he went wide-eyed. He made a strangled gasp and the line between his hand and the rift strengthened. He focused his energy into it until with a final burst of light, the rift snapped shut and he fell back on the ground. 

Dorian helped him up and shook his head when they passed by the Iron Bull on the way back to the carriage. “We can talk about this later,” he offered when they had privacy once more. 

Theo just nodded and curled up on his side, head on Dorian’s lap. He wasn’t going to want to talk about it--Dorian already knew that. But something had happened back there that had affected Theo in a way Dorian had never seen, even at his worst during the last year. Dorian didn’t want to admit fear, but it wasn’t looking like he would have a choice in this matter.


End file.
